


Trust.

by rufflefeather



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, post episode 2.10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufflefeather/pseuds/rufflefeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek finds out who Dr Deaton really meant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small drabble to ease my way into a new fandom. Unbeta'd.

“Come on Derek, where are you going?” Stiles says somewhere behind him. He’s limping through the undergrowth but Derek can’t smell any blood apart from his own so he ignores him. Has to, is concentrating too much on remaining upright and ahead to snarl at him. Stiles isn’t deterred though, and that comes as exactly no surprise, just limps faster and calls his name again. Like a plea. “What are you doing, you’re bleeding all over the place.”

“Just leave me be, Stiles,” Derek says, leaning against a tree for a second because he’s starting to feel lightheaded. Instantly Stiles is there, reaching like he wants to touch but taking everything in with his eyes instead.

“Oh my god you have more bullet holes than a training dummy at a shooting range. How are you still standing?”

Derek closes his eyes with a put-upon sigh and resist the urge to rub the weariness out of his eyes. Gerard is dead. Things are nowhere near safe but then Derek hasn’t really felt safe since the fire. He thinks he might’ve forgotten what that feels like. But at least there’ll be a ceasefire for a while. The Argents will need to regroup and Derek has the impression Allison has turned into a force to be reckoned with. From both sides. But for now, for now the wolf in him wants to find a safe hole, lick its wounds and sleep. 

His Pack is scattered. They’ll come back when they’ve healed in their own time. Erica has Isaac and Boyd has Danny. Jackson is with Lydia and Scott… He doesn’t want to think about Scott.

And Stiles, Stiles is here. Derek doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean. When he opens his eyes Stiles is _still_ there, looking at him, weary and worried.

“Come on, Derek,” he says, softly, like Derek’s a spooked animal. And maybe he is, a little. “Come on, lemme take you home. Warm water and food and a bed’s got to sound better than an empty train or a burnt out house. Come on,” he coaxes, “trust me.”

It hits him, then. It hits him hard, like a fucking wrecking ball, right in his already bleeding gut. He grabs Stiles by the collar, who just rolls his eyes and says, “Oh, here we go,” when Derek pushes him against the tree.

“It’s you,” Derek whispers, broken and hoarse. “He … Deaton … he meant you.” 

Oh god. 

Stiles doesn’t understand what Derek’s on about but looks up at him anyway, open and unafraid. He’s tired, there’s soot-colored circles beneath his eyes. It’s the middle of the night, he’s just been in a dreadful fight and still, he’s here.

It’s easy then, to lean forward the rest of the way and find out what trust tastes like.


End file.
